


and don't you ever let go

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is in a perfume commercial. Tony will have a witty comment about this as soon as his brain kicks back into gear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and don't you ever let go

**Author's Note:**

> okay basically something I wrote out in an hour 
> 
> un-beta'ed and sort of inspired by Chris' Gucci Guilty advert

He sees it at four in the morning, watching re-runs of crappy cop procedurals with a whipped cream and chocolate sauce sandwich. He'll go to sleep in a bit, he swears, just as soon as the equations and mechanics in his head go to sleep.  
  
He blinks at the insurance advert, which suddenly changes at the end of the jingle.  
  
His sleepy eyes take a moment to register the black and white advert - it's a guy, on a bicycle, his helmet covering his face.  
  
Tony thinks of Steve's own bike - how often Tony asks to alter the engine, just a little bit, only to get turned down with a wry smile. How often he scowls at Steve's lack of headgear protection, and how often he loses himself staring at Steve's ass on it.  
  
He blames this train of thought on why it takes him until the final few seconds of the advert to realise it's not a sleep-induced hallucination, Steve Rogers is actually on the TV.  
  
He jolts into an upright position, his half-eaten sandwich thrown to the floor in his urgency.  
  
"What the hell?" He bursts out - there's now an advert on for cat biscuits, so he demands, "JARVIS, rewind to the previous advert."  
  
It's black and white, and the man drives his motorcycle towards the camera and then past it. Tony squints at it - it sure looks like Steve's build, but it's not like there aren't other triangular-shaped torsos in the world.  
  
It then clips to the motorcyclist parking in a bar, his boots kicking against the ground. Again, not enough information. (Even though those cowboy boots are lame enough that only Steve could be pressured to wear).  
  
But then... Tony's mouth pops open with a soundless curse.  
  
The cyclist takes his helmet off, tucking it underneath his arm, and _oh dear god_.  
  
That's Steve.  
  
That's _Steve_ , giving the camera a smouldering look over his shoulder, his blond hair waving a little bit in the wind and his jaw as majestic as always.  
  
Then the title of the perfume flashes over his face, and Tony actually makes a shooing gesture at the words (again, blaming it on the lack of sleep).  
  
Tony cannot help but wonder what deity he has pleased to deserve this.  
  
He watches it at least ten (okay, twenty three) more times that night alone.  
  
-  
  
In the morning, he wakes up nice and early. He has a lot of work to do.  
  
-  
  
The key to any good prank is to start subtle. Laugh at them for a bit before they realise, right?  
  
So Tony flourishes into the kitchen that morning with the first present.  
  
The kitchen is chosen because is Steve is there, obviously. Bruce is also there, as well as Natasha, but they won't get it, certainly not at this time in the morning, so Tony's not too bothered about them ruining the joke. 

"Hey, Steve!" Tony bounces next to him.  
  
Steve looks up from his cereal, spoon halfway from his mouth. "Yeah?"  
  
"You know how you need to be more safety conscious?" Tony says.  
  
"Um."  
  
"Being a role model and all that," Tony continues.  
  
"I'm not sure how safe I _can_  be..." Steve hedges - Tony kind of understands where he's coming from. Last week they were fighting razor throwing robots, for God's sake.  
  
"In your civilian attire, then." Tony amends.  
  
At Steve's blank look, Tony sighs. He probably should've known better than to do this in the morning, but it was too late now.  
  
"Okay, I'm just going to give it to you. Here."  
  
He dumps the box onto the table, and Steve flinches. Tony would like to point out that since last time, all dangerous robots have been kept in the workshop, so there was really no need for that flinch.  
  
"Um," Steve says again. "What is it?"  
  
"Open it."  
  
So Steve does. He frowns as he lifts the black, shiny round helmet out of the box. Natasha and Bruce share a look.  
  
“Uh, thanks,” Steve says. “But I told you I don’t wear helmets.”  
  
“Are you sure about that?” Tony says, in a faux tone. “I mean, I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you wear something like this.”  
  
This is the crucial moment, and Tony watches carefully, and- There! Across the top of Steve’s cheeks, there’s the tiniest trace of a blush. Tony grins.  
  
“Nope,” Steve says with a straight face, and his voice only a tiny bit squeakier than usual. “Nope, I’ve never worn something like this.”  
  
Tony’s grin widens. Challenge accepted, Rogers, challenge fucking accepted.  
  
-  
  
The next present is slightly less subtle, but just as fun.  
  
Tony decides to give it to Steve in front of all the Avengers - the easiest way to do this when they’re not fighting some bad guy is during movie night.  
  
Movie night isn’t really coordinated - usually, Clint sticks on a movie, drags Steve to watch it, telling him it’ll educate him more than ‘any other encyclopedia they give you’ (even though it won’t 'cause Clint picks movies like ‘Hamster Robots 2: Fur Set To Turbo Charge’) and everyone else just migrates to the area.  
  
So Tony lands on the sofa next to Steve (they all chose spaces in the room ages ago) and hands over the second present.  
  
“...Cowboy boots?” Steve says, in a confused voice, holding one in each hand in front of him. “I don’t get it.”  
  
Tony watches him, and even in the dim lighting, he can see Steve’s ears go pink. He bites back a wide smile. “Yeah. Your size, right?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but-”  
  
“Awesome!” Tony grins. “You know, I hear they’re pretty good for wearing on your motorcycle.”  
  
“Is this Tony trying to create a fantasy of his?” Clint mutters to Natasha, who shrugs.  
  
Steve gulps. “And where would you have heard that?”  
  
“Oh, I can’t remember now.” Tony says innocently. “But you know, they’d probably go with that new helmet of yours.”  
  
“Right.” Steve coughs. “Okay, I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”  
  
“Definitely a fantasy,” Natasha murmurs. Clint nods in agreement.  
  
-  
  
The third present is the final one, and the most obvious. Tony decides to give it to Steve by himself - the others won’t understand, and anyway, this will be his own prize for finding it in the first place.  
  
“Hey, Steve!”  
  
Steve looks up from his book, and looks worried. “Hey, Tony.”  
  
The plan: walk up close to Steve, let him recognise the familiar perfume that Tony sprayed all over himself, and then produce the said bottle from his back pocket, just to really hammer home the point.  
  
So Tony does walk over, stopping when their knees knock together, and braces his hands on the couch on either side of Steve’s head. He grins in a predatory fashion.  
  
“Tony, what-” Steve squeaks, and it’s only then that Tony realises that maybe he didn’t entirely think this through.  
  
He’s less than an inch away from Steve’s mouth, and all he can smell is Steve and the heady musk of the perfume, and Steve is looking at him with a blush that’s more than embarrassment.  
  
“Um.” Tony says.  
  
And then something in Steve’s eyes changes, and then, suddenly they’re kissing.  
  
Which, okay, Tony is certainly not complaining.  
  
It continues for - well, Tony loses track of time, shut up - and really, Tony stopped being a young man a long time ago, and so his back is starting to hurt from this position. Steve, being a master tactician, realises the problem and decides to solve it. He flips Tony over so he’s below Steve on the couch.  
  
The fun kissing would’ve continued, if it were not for the fact that this movement kind of broke the perfume bottle in Tony’s back pocket.  
  
Steve recoils at the smell. “Tony. What is that goddawful stench?”  
  
As dazed as he is, Tony would have to be stupid to miss this opportunity. He props himself up on his elbows, and grins. “You don’t recognise it?”  
  
“Should I?”  
  
Tony just grins, waiting for Steve to catch up.  
  
Steve’s expression clears. “The motorcycle helmet?”  
  
Tony nods.  
  
“And the boots?”  
  
Again, Tony nods.  
  
“And-” Steve wrinkles his nose. “Christ, I didn’t realise how awful it smelt.”  
  
Tony beams. “Hey, Steve, smoulder at me. Go on, pout, just a little bit-”  
  
He gets shoved off the couch in reply.  
  



End file.
